‘My fear is that we won’t have one soon enough. Do you know, Sai, if I were still myself, but I’d been born in Germany instead of here, I’d have lost my citizenship. I wouldn’t be permitted to vote. There’d be a J stamped on my identity card. I might be thrown in jail on some trumped-up charge, or they might force me to emigrate. The fact that I have a brain, or that I can play the piano, or that people like my concerts, or that I am a good citizen – none of that would count.’

‘But none of that’s happening to you,’ said Jelly. ‘You’re not German, you’re English.’

‘I’m not English English, am I? I have a German name. People are noticing that today. They’re suspicious. And I’m Jewish; they’re noticing that too. I fear there would be plenty of support here for the Reich’s racial policies.’

‘They accuse me too, because I’m foreign and I have a strange accent and name. But you are of course English!’ Jelly insisted.

‘And supposing I wished to be both English and Jewish, as I always have been and as I feel I am?’

‘But can’t you choose, then, that you’re English rather than Jewish?’

Myra exhaled, leaning forward against the piano. ‘I think you’re missing the point. Look, if this can happen in Germany, the most cultured country in Europe, then it can happen here as well. There are signs. You’ve seen them too.’

‘Perhaps some, but… ’ The local restaurant in which she had lunched with Ulli had redrawn its ‘No foreign produce’ sign: it was now three times the size, written in black block capitals. ‘It all adds up.’

‘Yes indeed, and if this vile philosophy takes hold, or if Hitler invades and we can’t repulse him, I don’t think I wish to live to see that day.’

Jelly rushed to hug her. ‘You mustn’t say things like that! I don’t see why you should ever say you’re Jewish if you don’t want to.’

‘Jelly, sometimes I don’t know if you’re actually anti-Semitic or just impossibly naïve.’ Myra extricated herself from Jelly’s embrace.

‘But I’m almost Jewish myself,’ said Jelly, stung. ‘I wanted to go to Berlin to find the manuscript and Donald wouldn’t let me.’

‘Tell me, are you still seeing that German boy?’ Myra’s expression was contemptuous.

‘I was never seeing him… I’ve only ever met him a couple of times. And he is not a Nazi.’

‘You’re still in touch?’

‘Only by letter, and sometimes we speak on the telephone, but… actually I don’t know where he is. He was going to phone me, but he has not… ’

‘I don’t know how you could even contemplate a relationship with a German now.’